


Stranger In Town

by helens78



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-04
Updated: 2009-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:46:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's a hometown cowboy and Jensen rides into town on a typical day.  Jensen, however, is not a typical cowboy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger In Town

Jared's sitting back nursing a sarsaparilla when a boy--a _man_, that is--not much older than him walks into the saloon. He takes the bar stool two seats down from Jared and asks for a whiskey, and Mrs. Ferris--the barkeep--gives it to him.

Advantage to not being a local; the folk don't try to overprotect you. Last time Jared tried to get himself a drink, Mrs. Ferris said, "You think your mamma would'a wanted me to feed her boy whiskey for breakfast? No way, no how. You're gonna have a meal every day if I got anything to say about it." Which she does, and so Jared never goes hungry.

But he also doesn't know what whiskey tastes like, and that's just plain embarrassing for a man his age. He can ride, rope, herd the cows in; he can shoot a Winchester rifle good as anybody. Mainly it's to protect the calves, but a drunk name of Norman came in one time and got a little too nervy with Mrs. Ferris's girl, and Jared had no trouble holding that Winchester on the drunk and backing him on out of the saloon.

He even shaves now, once a day whether he needs it or not. It's just not fair, Mrs. Ferris telling him he's not gonna get whiskey till he's older.

The other guy nods at him. "Evenin'," he says softly.

"Evenin'," Jared answers.

"New in town," the other guy says. "Know a place a man can stay a few days, get some food?"

Jared glances around the saloon, gets the nod from Mrs. Ferris. "Here's good. You got money?"

"I can pay. You give me a hand with my saddlebags, I'll buy you a drink."

Mrs. Ferris shakes her head and sighs, walking over to the other side of the bar and wiping it down, even though it's already clean enough to gleam.

"Don't gotta do that," Jared says. "I'll help out either way."

"Obliged," says the other guy. "Name's Jensen."

"Jared." Jared looks Jensen over; name like that, he'd expect a Swede, and Jensen's blond enough to look the part, but no. He talks like anybody else. "Welcome to Alkali," Jared says.

Jensen's got saddlebags and a bedroll on the back of his horse, which is a fine-looking animal, sleek and black as night. It looks old enough to know what it's doing, but not so old it can't get Jensen where he's going. "You want someplace to put her, there's a livery down the street."

"Thanks." Jensen smiles as Jared leads him back into the bar, where Mrs. Ferris has put a key out, along with another sarsaparilla. Jared picks up the key and takes Jensen up to his room, leaving the drink behind. "You lived here a long time?"

"All my life."

"Busy place?"

"Not so much," Jared says. "Busier lately, since the trail passes us by. Is that why you're here?"

"Hm?"

"On the trail?"

Jensen shakes his head. "Kinda looking for work."

"What kind of work do you do?"

Jensen looks at Jared for a few seconds, then shakes his head. "Nothing you could get me into."

Jared glares at Jensen. "You ain't that much older than me."

"Didn't say I was."

"You don't know what kind of work I get into."

"I know you don't look like a boy gets into a lot of trouble."

"Ain't a _boy_," Jared snaps. He pulls himself up to his full height and leans in, making sure Jensen takes notice; he's at least three inches taller than Jensen, even taking boots and hats into account. "You tell me what you're looking for, I'll ask around."

Jensen does something strange, then, something that takes Jared completely by surprise. He puts a hand up on Jared's shoulder, high up, close to the neck. So close he can stroke a thumb down the side of Jared's neck, and it sends a hot shiver down the center of Jared's back.

He knocks Jensen's hand away and takes a step back. His body's doing all sorts of things it's not supposed to do thanks to this Swede-named trouble-maker. "Look here, now--"

"Sorry," Jensen says, but he's smirking in a way that says he's not sorry at all. He looks Jared up and down, and Jared goes all hot and bothered, the way he used to when Junior looked him over that way. Junior got himself run out of town before Jared could figure out what kind of offer he was making, too, the son of a bitch.

"You want anything else?" Jared asks, more sassy than he ought to be to a paying customer, but hell, Jensen's still smirking like he likes that.

"Bunch of things," Jensen says. "Maybe later."

"You take care, then," Jared says, shoving Jensen's hotel key into his hand. He turns on his heel and walks out of the room, but he knows better than to get Mrs. Ferris riled by slamming the door behind him.

~*~

That afternoon Jared gets a job moving cattle from Alkali to Chappell. He's gone two days, and when he gets back, Jensen's out front of Mrs. Ferris's place, grinning down at him from the porch.

"Looks like you got home safe," he says. "Buy you a drink?"

"Just want a bath and a bed," Jared says. "Maybe a hot meal."

"You want to come have a drink first?" Jensen asks. "Got a bottle up in my room."

Jared stares Jensen right in the eyes, trying to figure out what he's supposed to make of that offer. He's damned if he knows, but a man who turns down whiskey isn't much of a man at all, he's pretty sure, and so he nods curtly. "You don't mind sharing a bottle with a guy who smells like two hundred head of cattle, then all right."

"Fine by me."

The bar's too busy for Mrs. Ferris to take much notice of Jared; she nods at him to show she sees him, but she doesn't look at where he's going or who he's going with. For some reason, Jared's glad about that, though he couldn't say exactly why.

Up in Jensen's room Jared takes off his shirt and rinses himself off at the washbasin. It makes him feel just about human again. Before he can put his shirt back on, Jensen's there with a glass of whiskey in his hand, which he pushes at Jared.

"Glad you're back," Jensen says.

"Thanks." Jared looks at the whiskey and then slams it back like all the cowboys do, and he winds up gasping for air and coughing his damn fool lungs out--_Jesus_, he didn't know the stuff could burn like that. Jensen slaps him on the back a few times, but when the coughing fit's over, he's still got his hand on Jared's bare skin and he isn't moving away.

"What--" Jared coughs again. "What?" he finally settles for, as it's the most he's going to get out of his throat for a few more minutes.

"Your first time, huh?" He doesn't wait for Jared to confirm it. "Well, there's a first time for a lot of things."

And that's when the look Junior used to give him finally lines up with the way Jared's dick used to rise and fill when he got that look, because Jensen gives him a similar expression as he reaches down into Jared's trousers and gets his hand right on the part in question. Jared gasps, and when Jensen pushes him back to the bed, Jared doesn't protest.

He's heard stories about what whores do, wondered what's so great about it and why they do it--if the money can _really_ be that good--but when Jensen pulls Jared's trousers down around his thighs and puts his mouth on Jared's dick, Jared can sure as hell see why the men pay for it. Nothing in his life's _ever_ felt that good, not his own hand, that's for sure. More amazing is what Jensen's doing, or rather how he looks while he's doing it--like he's a hungry man just been given a choice cut of steak, like Jared's dick tastes as fine as anything he's ever had in his mouth. It's only a matter of minutes before Jared spills over, and Jensen swallows and swallows, licking his lips when he's finished.

Jared's pretty sure Junior would've wanted this the other way around, and with Jensen, now, Jared's kinda tempted to see what that'd be like. But he's also so fuzzy around the edges it's like he's had four drinks instead of one, and all he can croak out is, "Jesus God in _heaven_."

"Thought you'd like that," Jensen says. "You want, we can do some more."

Jared nods. "Okay," he says. "More's good."

_-end-_


End file.
